This really, really hurts. And if you can believe it, this mess of a face you see before you is not nearly the worst of my troubles (and this is already way better than it looked yesterday…my eye was totally swollen shut). When Dolly, the horse I was riding, decided for no apparent reason to stop short at a full canter and throw me off her back, I was pitched face first into the hard, red dusty road. My neck made a highly disconcerting crunching noise as my body followed my face, and I was pretty sure it was all over for me at that point. Somehow, I managed to roll over as quickly as possible to avoid being trampled under the highly agitated Dolly, and mercifully, the horse backed away. I stood up and was more shocked that I felt so little pain than at the fact that something warm and sticky was gushing down my face. My teeth, amazingly, were all in place, and though they had punctured the insides of my lips, it seemed that I had only superficial injuries and scratches. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. John, the owner of the farm took me over to a sprinkler to wash the blood off my face before letting me take a gander at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Everyone was telling me it wasn’t that bad, which of course, meant that it was pretty bad. Later on that evening, while pressing a packet of frozen brussels sprouts against my rapidly swelling eye and mouth, I managed to have a few laughs about the whole episode with the crew. I mean, I was alive, apparently not terribly hurt, and given the way in which I hit the ground, impossibly lucky. But as I watched my face continue to swell over the course of the night and noticed a marked tightening in my neck and especially in the center of my back, the laughter turned to tears. John gave me a massage and some painkillers to ease my growing discomfort, but I think all that served to do was intensify the swelling in my face.
Just to give a little background about John (the guy who owns the farm), two years ago, he and his girlfriend at the time rode from the west coast to the east coast of Australia on horseback (Broome to Cairns). After catching 6 wild outback horses called Brumbys and training them (they needed horses well-suited and accustomed to the terrain), they rode them through the outback and it took them 5 months to complete the ride, not to mention the 5 years of planning that went into it. They were the first people ever to make that arduous trek, and though one functional eye that night, I watched the documentary that was made about their voyage (Dolly, that little shit, was even featured in the footage). The documentary hasn’t officially come out yet, but it’s really well done and engaging. It’s one of those deeply human stories that is just so inspiring… and he’s planning to do similar treks all over the world. I’ll definitely be watching his progress.
So anyway, where was I? Well, my experience in Darwin has been….how shall I put this… one series of unfortunate events after another. Everything was fine when we arrived in town from our road trip. I met up with my friend Dom from Sydney and he took us all over Darwin. One day, we went on a crocodile cruise in a small aluminum boat where we came into very close contact with crocs 6 meters long. This unfortunate creature had its arm bitten off by a shark. Australia is a perilous place if even crocs aren’t safe.
You have no idea how big a 6 meter croc is until you get up close and personal with it. Wild. Over the course of a few days, we went to a really nice swimming hole, saw a few movies, went to dinner at the wharf, and saw some gorgeous sunsets.
We also went to the Mindil Beach night market where we had the pleasure of watching one of the best didgeridoo players in Australia perform.
After the first fun-filled week however, everything started to unravel. Dom had offered to put me on a free company flight down to Melbourne whenever I wanted, and jumping at the opportunity to save some money, I decided against traveling to the west coast and opted instead to take him up on his flight offer to Alice Springs. I’d been wanting to visit Ayer’s Rock and the Olgas and was disappointed that we hadn’t made it there on our road-trip, so I figured now would be a great opportunity to check out all that I’d missed. But a last week, while walking down the steps to the outdoor cinema, Dom broke his hand while trying to demonstrate to us his ability (or lack thereof) to balance on the handrails. I had recently shown him this “motivational” poster and he jokingly brought it up again as he lay writhing in pain.
But all joking aside, the fracture put him out of commission and made it next to impossible to secure my flight on the following Monday. Had I taken the Monday flight, I would have been in the clear and would not now be the subject of pitiable stares. Or, had I simply gone west, I’d have been in the clear. I’m kicking myself for my decision to go south instead of doing the west coast as everything is now in total disarray. But I won’t kick myself that hard as I feel I have taken enough abuse.
So I can’t say all that much about Darwin other than it’s unbelievably hot and seems to have a vendetta against me and my friends. I’m currently on a 24-hour train down to Alice Springs and my bruised and battered face bought me an upgrade to a sleeper car (that’s over $400 worth of pity). I can’t tell you how lovely it’s been to lay in my own private little room (complete with a sink and towels!) and just sleep without the constant banging of doors, shouting, etc. It also gave me a chance to develop without interruption an idea I’ve been pondering for a new series of paintings I’m pretty excited about. Who knows, maybe if I hadn’t been put out of commission I wouldn’t have given it so much time and thought. I feel so much better now that I’ve had a good night’s sleep and that I’ve been mildly productive to boot. I’m praying that the pain in my back is temporary and that it will not be a lasting injury… and it would be a bonus if I could get out of this without any scarring on my face. I’m growing a bit tired of people taking one look at me and going, “Holy shit! What happened to your face?” I’ve been tempted to make up stories, saying things like, “yeah if you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” But in truth, I’m way more concerned about the inside of me than the external cuts and bruises. What a downer…I’m just hoping I feel well enough to do my camping trip on Sat. I think I’ll be ok.
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